The Perfect Stranger

Just for the record, this actually isn't about anyone in particular - I just have a lot of stupid things going on in my brain.

But if you'd like to whisk me away on the corner of Main and Crescent in Glen Ellyn, and resemble a young Cary Grant, then by all means, be my guest.

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Perfect Stranger,

I saw you today. You were walking in Glen Ellyn, and I was on my home from work, ready to pull into Starbucks for a quick caffeine boost. My car was at a stand-still, and I looked to the side, and saw a red hat bobbing up and down the street. I looked down, and instantly, I knew it was you.

I circled the block. I couldn’t find a parking space. I circled again. I found one. I rushed out of my car, ran down the block, around the corner, desperate to catch you, all the while thinking up some story as to why I was running. I was meeting someone. No, because then I couldn’t talk to you. It was starting to drizzle. Yes. I didn’t want to get caught in the rain. It was starting to drizzle. There it was, my simple story, perfectly believable. You would’ve never known that I had in actuality been running to catch up to you.

Book by the binding in my hand, I circled the corner, and looked down the street both ways. There I stood, breathless, cheeks flushed, anticipating a by chance encounter with the one person in the world I could say “I was just thinking about you!” and mean it. I lost you. I missed you. You were gone.

The irony of it, was the only thirty minutes before, I sat in the tennis lounge at Wheaton Sports Center, thinking of all the times I had gone to see him play tennis there. Of the first time I watched him play, and how I went upstairs, yet couldn’t find him, and stood and pretended to be interested in games that I didn’t understand, pretending to not be thinking solely of him, and how suddenly, as if I was knocked out of trance, there he was, next to me. He was golden, Stranger, simply golden, glowing from a victory that had taken place just minutes before. His smile was radiant, he was beaming down on me, simply gleaming that he had caught me by surprise. It was his simplest pleasure to have me, his very own, to sit and watch him play a game he loved.

I thought of how handsome he was to me, and how much I loved the sight of him, and his gently tanned skin, his dark eyes gazing into mine. I remember it like it was yesterday.

For him, only two years ago, even more than that, Stranger, I was breathless.

And there I stood, on the corner of Main and Crescent, in downtown Glen Ellyn, breathless, for you, expecting a man to round a corner in whom never would.

You shake me, Stranger. You chill me to the bone. Your stature, your humanity, your very likeness is royalty to me. You are passionate gentleness, and I can’t shake you, because you are shaking me.

I was still, the wind swirling my hair about my face, the gentle tingle still left in my cheeks, the tingle of excitement, of anticipation, of a little fear, too. On a lonely street corner, on a rainy day, people passing left and right. I stood dejected.

I clung to my paper back copy of The Other Boleyn Girl. I was deep into the plot of Kings and Queens. I imagined for a fleeting moment, that you were king, and I was your queen, and we ruled over all the land of ours, of our hearts.

I rummaged in my pocket for a few dollars, strolled down the street, as to not to make my feet idle, and found the Starbucks. It was my last hope. Maybe you had strolled down to Starbucks. You didn’t. You wouldn’t.

I bought an iced latte. I sipped it as I walked, frustrated down the street.

I imagined the day, when I would fly around the corner, unknowingly into you arms, and have you swing me around in sheer delight to have me, your own, basking in your joy. You would fold me into the creases of your body, you would wrap me up with your love, on that lonely street corner in Glen Ellyn, with people all around, watching our beautiful love blossom. Watching what I have waited for happen before my eyes. There, Stranger, in that moment, I would be breathless, cheeks tingling, tears brimming. Perhaps, then, we would stroll, hand in hand, down to Starbucks together. Perhaps we would both be holding a book by the binding, and perhaps we would read them together, sipping our iced latte’s, our feet touching under the table, in the simple bliss of knowing we were ours. Perhaps, then, I would not feel so dejected, so hopeless, that my only love had slipped away, because I could not find a parking space.

I walked back slowly, eyes peeled, one last glint of hope that I might still see you, that my every dream might come true, and that we’d tell our great grandchildren how our love had awoken on a simple street corner. I never saw you stranger, but as I found my car, parked around the corner, there was yours, parked right next to mine.

I hadn’t seen it before, in my rush to find you.

I couldn’t help thinking of a someday, we might have our cars parked like this, on a little driveway, of a little house where we’d cherish each other and be each other’s own, and each other’s lover, and each other’s companion forever. A day when we might be husband and wife. I couldn’t help but grin a little at the thought of your red Toyota next to my green Cavalier.

As I rode home, I realized something. I fell in love with you long ago. I fell in love with a guy who's smile warmed by entire being, and who's every word I waited upon with anticipation and hunger. I fell in love with your quick looks and your countenance.

I was in love with a boy I’d never known, a man I hardly knew, a family I had heard of. I am in love with you. I have decided this. I can’t shake you. You play my game too well. I’ve met my match in you, Stranger, and I don’t want the chase anymore. All I want is you.

I’ve been hurt, and broken, and torn to pieces. I’m filthy, rotten, sinful, and sick. I want arms that are safe and know exactly how firm to hold me, so I will not break, but will feel secure in them. I want hands that I trust, that can go anywhere, and I am confident they will not falter. I want eyes I can look into, and know the deepest desires are each others

I am scared, Stranger. I am scared you will not love me despite my rottenness. I am scared you will turn from me, as you are. You are turning from me even now. You have already turned.

I want to be wind-whisked, breathless, pink cheeked, starry eyed, and mad with love for you.

Again, I find us here, the only way I can have you, in a letter I will never send, at midnight. Perfect stranger, you are indeed perfect in every way. In fact, it is even your imperfection that makes you perfect.

I am much too smart for this, my perfect stranger. Must too smart to be whisked away by a man I hardly know.

Perfect stranger, please tell me your real name.

Your's, Forever,

Breathless